


WICKED WOMAN

by MceboMMM



Category: Gone Girl - Gillian Flynn
Genre: Divorce, F/M, Missing Woman, Murder, Mystery, Psychological, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-07-29 12:38:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7684825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MceboMMM/pseuds/MceboMMM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the reality of life… Yesterday’s family always become today’s graves and tomorrow’s memories.</p><p>But Blogger Elijah Turner goes all out to reverse or at least postpone that reality for his darling.</p><p>###</p><p>I update on Wednesdays...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

I will never get a chance to see, appreciate and love her. She was swallowed by the ocean. It was hard to believe, but she is no more. The mighty waters claimed her like they owned her and there was nothing I could do, except documenting her life for the world to cry, shrivel and pray with me.  
…

Yesterday’s family, today’s graves, tomorrow’s memories  
Yesterday’s wife, today’s betrayer, tomorrow’s enemy  
Yesterday’s darling, today’s demon, tomorrow’s disaster  
Yesterday’s friends, today’s enemies, tomorrow’s crucifiers

Yesterday’s hope, today’s disappointment, tomorrow’s regret  
Yesterday’s love, today’s hell, tomorrow’s regret  
Yesterday’s promise, today’s disappointment, tomorrow’s pain  
Yesterday’s trust, today’s doubt, tomorrow’s treachery

Yesterday’s love, today’s hatred, tomorrow’s murder  
Yesterday’s promise, today’s lies, tomorrow’s deceit  
Yesterday’s help, today’s ungratefulness, tomorrow’s disappointment  
Yesterday’s wealth, today’s burden, tomorrow’s liability

Yesterday’s husband, today’s ex, tomorrow’s enemy  
Yesterday’s soul, today’s ghost, tomorrow’s terror  
Yesterday’s sweetheart, today’s swine, tomorrow’s imbecile  
Yesterday’s friend, today’s boss, tomorrow’s enemy

Yesterday’s beauty, today’s flop, tomorrow’s shame  
Yesterday’s wisdom, today’s foolishness, tomorrow’s crime  
Yesterday’s knowledge, today’s obstacles, tomorrow’s jokes  
Yesterday’s lives, today’s memories, tomorrow’s stories

Yesterday’s wife, today’s opponent, tomorrow’s ex  
Yesterday’s babies, today’s dropouts, tomorrow’s menace  
Yesterday’s girls, today’s addicts, tomorrow’s whores  
Yesterday’s boys, today’s gangs, tomorrow’s thugs

Yesterday’s kings, today’s slaves, tomorrow’s history  
Yesterday’s angels, today’s demons, tomorrow’s problems  
…


	2. Chapter 2

ELIJAH  
Tuesday, December 27, 2016  
9:20 AM

I learned the hard way that pain and confusion form a deadly duo. The pain pierced my heart mercilessly, and the confusion squashed my mind until I cried hopelessly – all night. There was nowhere to escape. When I climbed to my mind, confusion showed up and threatened to end my sanity. When I descended to my heart, pain was busy eating up the last remains of hope. So I had to ignore myself in order to survive. Or at least ignore the problem and hope it wasn’t as it seemed.

I raised my heavy and worn-out eyes to the living room window for the thousandth time. But still, there was nothing encouraging – just snow falling, cars, passing and Brooklyn College students rushing for the 9:20 bus on Vanderbilt Ave. No sign of her.

Tears filled my eyes again. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe I had successfully opened a missing person case for my darling. My Queen. Grace. Missing. No. No ways.

I believed she would drive in any minute and apologize for not calling me and keeping her cell phone off. “Sorry babe. I was at Mila’s. And my battery died, so I couldn’t call you,” she would say, apologetically fixing her brown eyes on mine, squeezing my hands with her small ones. Of course I would pinch her on the neck – punishing her for keeping me up all night, calling all relatives and friends. “Ouch,” she would say. Then I would give her a warm hug.

I looked again. Still, nobody. No maroon Honda Civic driving into our garage. Only fear cut through my heart, leaving a hot sensation in my stomach. I turned and walked aimlessly. Slowly I sat on one of the couches facing the fire-less fireplace. I was really afraid – afraid to think openly and embrace all the possibilities my mind threatened to cough out. All night long I successfully thwarted the ‘what if’ line of thoughts. But now they were coming in heavily and I was more exposed and vulnerable. My own mind had turned against me – it had its arms ready to finish me. I was afraid. My body quaked, more especially my hands, not because of the weather but due to the violent heart beats.

I took out my cell phone but it fell on the carpet. I took a deep breath and picked it up. Then I dialed 917... and stopped. It came to mind I had called Mila, Grace’s best friend, a dozen times at night. I literally made her lose sleep like me. “I’m so sorry, El. Nothing, still,” she would say each time. I decided to give her a break; after all she would call me if something came up. But I just needed someone to talk to – someone to help me disarm my mind. What would I do if it opened scary files of the ordeal? What would I do if it brought to the table the tragic incident of Leon, our late firstborn son? What would I do if it started comparing both incidents and spotted similarities? I swallowed a hefty dose of saliva, staring blankly at the fireplace.

I was scared out of my wits to imagine even a single day without Grace – let alone a lifetime. Deep in my heart I knew I was one of the few lucky men on earth. Grace was a special woman in every sense of the word. She was a rare treasure. At times she would apologize even when I was the one at fault. The argument would end between us but start in my heart until I say, “I’m sorry babe” - of course after swallowing a whale of a pride.

Above all, I loved her and she loved me. Our love was tested by fire and was found more robust than gold when the doctor told her plainly that I would never regain my sanity. She didn’t divorce me on medical grounds as many expected and advised; she held on to me. How do you hold on to a lunatic? Thousands of women fail to hold on to their sane men. Grace held on to a lunatic!  
I rose to the window again. No body. A sour feeling passed through me. I felt like I wasn’t doing enough. I ought to be running helter-skelter all over New York City, searching every street, corner and building.

I paced up and down in the living room, trying to pin one thing I could do to find my sweetheart. But nothing came to mind except the scary stuff. The stuff I didn’t want to go to. Definitely, I couldn’t lose two lovely souls in a year. No. I had to do something to find Grace. Finding her would also console me for the loss I suffered in tragically losing Leon. Yes, the pain in my heart was as fresh as the snow outside, but I promised God that if he could bring back my wife safe and sound, I would stop lamenting for my boy.

However, both incidents were similar in disturbing proportions, but I believed she would be back. After all what other choice did I have other than believing and hoping – believing and hoping – believing and hoping?

The telephone in the dining room broke the silence. I almost jumped out of my skin. I ran like a crazy man and grabbed the receiver. It almost dropped on the floor but I caught it in the air. “Hello. Hello… Hello.” Then I heard the flat sound suggesting that the call had been terminated. My lungs suspended breathing for a moment. I bit my bottom lip. I almost cried aloud. Tears filled my eyes. I collapsed onto the chair next to me.

I jerked to my feet and sat down and rose again when it clicked in my head that even in Leon’s case I did receive a mysterious call where the caller didn’t say a thing. I shook my head whilst fear multiplied in my heart.

Children sang and giggled full of life outside when I was short of it in the dining room. I went to the window. No Grace. No Civic. Nothing, except the children with their moms, building a huge snowman. I wished to get out, crush their snowman and command them to stop – stop being happy and mourn with me. They were busy making noise arguing that the snowman was a snowman or snowwoman – the little boys wanted it called the snowman and the little girls wanted it called the snowwoman – but they were grossly irritating me. The pain in my heart required deafening silence or constructive voices – voices that talked about Grace – how she could be found as soon as now, not stupid snowman debates.

Somebody knocked heavily on the front door.

I dashed to the living room, hopeful again. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I opened.


	3. Chapter 3

ELIJAH  
Tuesday, December 27, 2016  
9:40 AM

I had to move out literally before permitting the disappointment to join the pain and confusion tormenting me. Indeed there was no one on the veranda. My heart shrunk and tears pushed inside my eyes. I sagged against the wall and window to remain on my feet. Dreadful hopelessness passed through my heart.

Even the snow on my yard was intact – no footsteps from the gate to the veranda. Confusion swelled more than the other two. I shook my head and bit my lip.

Karen and Jane waved at me from the pavement. They were putting some finishing and dressing the snowman with their noisy kids. I was looking at them, but I couldn’t see them. I didn’t even realize they were waving at me. That’s why I waved back when they had already stopped - disappointed. “I’m sorry. I’m disturbed,” I said.

They looked at each other. I couldn’t tell what that was for. Probably I looked weird since I had not slept nor eaten since the previous day.

I walked to them even though it was my sincere desire to be alone at all costs. I had to update them about Grace’s disappearance since they were good neighbors to us. Surely they would be more than willing to help in searching for her.

“He is beautiful,” I said, looking at the snowman.

“What? – Oh you mean the snowman. Yes he is beautiful,” Karen said.

I couldn’t understand the reason behind the tension. Both of them were good friends of Grace and me, but they acted like I was boogeyman. “Yes, he is beautiful. I like the hat.”

“Elijah, is everything okay? Where is Grace?” Jane said, staring at my stomach.

It took me time to grasp what she said. My mind started by processing the way she said my name, ‘Elijah,’ – not ‘El.’ It felt very formal and uncomfortable. They always called me El, like Grace. I looked at my stomach and realized she was looking at big stains of blood on my cream white jacket. It was for the first I learned there were blood stains on my jacket. I touched them and realized it was fresh blood. My hand quickly turned red like I touched a fresh wound.

Jane grabbed her two younger kids by their hands and shouted the two older ones to run home. Karen stared at my eyes for a few seconds and also did what Jane did – except she didn’t run. She strolled to her house.

I was confused but I managed to say, “Oh… Grace. Grace is missing. She …” But I was talking to myself.

Jane turned and gave me an ugly eye before disappearing into her house which was adjacent to Karen’s – house 44. Karen’s house, house 43, was closer to mine, but she went in last. Her kids were terrified by Jane’s behavior and ran into the house, but she didn’t. They turned and shouted, “Mom, run,” but she didn’t. She walked like a couple madly in love in the park on a summer afternoon.

I sighed and shook my head. I didn’t know what to do. I only wanted to ask the ladies if they had seen any one knock at my door. That’s all. But they were scared away by blood which I had no idea where it came from. I was also surprised with them.

The understanding part of me didn’t blame them though: I came with blood spatters on my jacket, and when they asked after Grace, I said she was missing. But I knew I had not killed her as they thought. They had to believe me and stop being ridiculous. Nothing had changed – I was still the God fearing Elijah they knew - Grace was genuinely missing.

I felt anger sweep through me. The last thing I expected from Karen and Jane was a cold shoulder when I told them their neighbor and friend was missing. I expected them to be shocked and help mobilize people to form search parties. They ought to support me whilst I did everything to find her. But they took me for a stupid murderer and abandoned me. What they did was not different from rubbing pepper on a bare wound.

I looked at their snowman smiling at me – laughing actually. I quickly drew close and kicked it on the stomach. It crumbled instantly. The black hat fell on the road. Instantly, I realized I had messed up. When I turned and looked at Karen’s house I realized she was staring at me through her living room window. Even Jane stared at me. I didn’t see her but I could feel her angry eyes penetrating my skin – probably from the bedroom upstairs.

Obviously I had to apologize. I headed to Karen’s house first. She disappeared from the window. I knocked at the door, but she didn’t respond. “Karen, I’m sorry about the snowman, it wasn’t intentional.”

Karen shouted probably from the dining room, “Elijah, please leave or I call the police. If you listened this wouldn’t have happened.”

I laughed, not believing my ears. Karen wanted to call the police on me! The same Karen I helped - protected a million times when her violent ex-husband would almost kill her with kicks and punches. Honestly I expected a lot from Karen, probably Jane could act the way she did – she wasn’t that close to Grace and I, but Karen was like a younger sister to me. “Karen. Why are you treating me like this? Please talk to me at least.”

Karen said, “I will call the police. Please leave, don’t involve me in whatever you have done.”

“Who are you talking to, Mommy?” One of Karen’s kids asked.

“Karen,” I shouted, “Okay, I will leave now, but please…”

A blue Audi A4 stopped in front of Jane’s house with a squeak of tires. It was her beefy husband. He gave me a scary stare, shaking his head before running into their house.

I said, “Karen, let me ask one question, then I will leave.”

She didn’t say anything.

I said, “Whilst you built the snowman, did you see anyone climb to my veranda and knock?”

Karen said, “Elijah, please leave. Now you want to recruit me to be your witness and lie to the jury. You know very well you were the first person to walk on the snow on your yard. Before you came out it was smooth and untouched. Elijah, please leave.”

A few blocks away I heard a police siren coming towards our street, I ran back to my house. I dropped on the couch feeling clumsy and bleeding inside. I was like Jesus on the night he was betrayed by his friend, Judas Iscariot.

Losing Grace was horrible enough for them to treat me like that. Naturally every person requires and expects support if something awful has happened. But instead of empathy my friends magnified my problem. It was hard to believe.

The police siren drew closer. My heart picked up its pace even though I knew I was innocent. I didn’t kill Grace; I wanted my lovely wife alive. It’s just that I also feared the blood thing. I had no cut, so where did it come from? I hastened to the bathroom to clean up my jacket. The police car stopped outside and turned the siren off.


	4. Chapter 4

ELIJAH  
Tuesday, December 27, 2016  
10:03 AM

I stood at the living room window, watching the two detectives having a conversation with Karen, Jane and her husband in front of Karen’s house. The two women moved up and down narrating and demonstrating what they saw. But it was Jane who was more vocal. Probably Karen did feel guilty for treating me like a criminal when she knew how much I went out of my way to help her. At times I would even clash with my own wife because of her. I could not even recall how many times Grace blamed me for treating Karen more lovingly than her. I wouldn’t even blame her. I also felt unsure if Karen was always genuine or hitting on me until one fateful night.

She invited me to a dinner when she knew very well Grace was in Boston. I enjoyed the meal but the whole thing wasn’t cool at all – there was obvious tension. And we both knew we were not supposed to eat together if Grace wasn’t with us. Also, the deco in the dim dining room was romantic – almost everything was reddish, candles were the only source of light. Barry White, Celine Dion, Whitney Houston,… sang softly from the background. Even her dress made me very uncomfortable. It made me sweat a lot in fact. After the great Italian dish I had a few spoons of the wonderful trifle she had made. Then I rose and thanked her for the dinner. I knew I had to terminate the flow of planned events and go or I would mess up my marriage and my faith. But she also rose to her feet and asked me not to leave, “Please El. I will do anything for you.” When she started undressing herself, coming towards me I ran out. I laughed as I walked to my house, shocked.

Karen and I lived a life of a cat and a rat there after. I being the rat, of course. I reached a point where I stopped going to her house alone since she escalated her seduction stunts to almost irresistible intensities.

Jane pointed at the crumbled snowman and kicked, showing them how I brought it down. I knew she was watching me when I lost control and kicked it. She also pointed at Karen’s house.  
Bitterness swept through my stomach again. Clearly I wasn’t doing enough to find my love. Instead I was destructed by stupid, overacting neighbors.

The police walked towards my house. I almost ran through the backdoor but I stood still. I knew I was not guilty. I even reported Grace’s disappearance at night. I didn’t wait for the following day.  
The cops knocked. I welcomed them in and explained what happened, starting from the call, the knock, then the blood on my jacket which was probably mine I explained. Making them buy my story wasn’t difficult, because they were the ones who came early in the morning when I reported Grace’s disappearance. Detective Eleanor Reid, the beautiful female detective, took notes most of the time whilst Detective Edward Howell asked the questions.

Detective Howell said, “So this is the jacket you are talking about.”

I said, “Yes, it’s this one.”

Detective Howell said, “May we go with it. We need to conduct some tests on it. Just to be sure. As you say, it might be your blood, but we have got to be sure.”

I gave them the jacket. They loaded it in a transparent bag. Then they promised they were doing everything they could to find Grace – no leads yet, since every account she owns had been dormant in the past forty eight hours. But they assured me they were doing their best. And since I had signed the publicity consent form they said her images were already showing on television, websites – print media would start on the following day. Even the radio was spreading the news. Glimpses of hope brewed in me. As a blogger I knew the power of the media.

I watched the officers walk to the road through the window. The three were still waiting for them. Jane and her husband complained to the detectives. I couldn’t hear what they said, but their body language was that of disapproval and disappointment. They threw their hands all over the place and looked like they were shouting. They obviously expected them to arrest me. Karen didn’t say anything; she only stared at my living room window. She couldn’t see me, but she knew I was staring at them too. Then she walked back to her house. I longed to know what was going on in her head. Probably she had recalled I did come to her house and Jane’s the previous night to ask if Grace wasn’t with them.

A disturbing thought crossed my head and I quickly raised my eyes to look at Karen again. I couldn’t see her; she had disappeared into her house. Even the officers had left. But then I thought no, it’s a stupid, farfetched theory - Karen wouldn’t take her obsession to the next level by killing Grace. No, she wouldn’t. But what if she did – what if some savages she hired had Grace in a black van, driving to the woods to kill her, probably after raping her.

I slapped the couch behind me. The thought of her being raped made me feel sick. I rushed to the bedroom and put on another jacket, a black one. I walked fast to the bus station. I had to catch the 11:00 bus – the noon one seemed decades away. I rushed cautiously though. The Snow Removal Companies were not done yet. The road and pavements were still slippery.

I stopped on the road, thinking probably I was taking things too far. Probably I was being unfair to Karen, like I was revenging for the way they treated me in the morning. But deep down I knew I wasn’t revenging; a part of me suspected her. And it felt okay in me even if our relationship could be messed up forever as so long as I was doing something towards getting my Grace back. My love for Grace could make me do anything. I could even kill for her. Our love had reached a point where it wasn’t just a warm feeling within but genuine love, genuine caring and genuine respect.

I continued pacing to the bus station. I wasn’t being unfair to Karen.


	5. Chapter 5

ELIJAH  
Tuesday, December 27, 2016  
11:01 AM

The bus driver stared at my hand as I dipped my MetroCard into the farebox, making my payment. I picked a seat in the middle of the bus. A few people were doing small talk about elections and the New York Red Bulls’ pitiless victory over the weekend. The majority was quiet, thinking or busy on their cell phones or tablets. The engine revved and rumbled on Vanderbilt Ave, heading towards the 278 Interstate Highway. 

Those who talked about New York Red Bulls’ victory were unfair to me. They made my mind jump to Saturdays afternoon – Leon and I screaming and running all over the living room when the New York Red Bulls had scored. To avoid sinking even deeper until I cried, I tried focusing outside, but I could not completely avoid them. I could even hear that the game was terrific.

I yawned so loud that some old lady sitting across the aisle glanced at me. She smiled when our eyes met. I only managed to grin and looked at the other side, outside, lest she started a conversation. I was too messed up, hungry and tired to small talk a lot of nothing. It was definitely my heart pushing me to press on; otherwise my body demanded many hours of bedtime and a full meal for I had skipped supper and breakfast.

As I looked outside I found myself scanning every young woman with long brown hair, hourglass figure, walking next to the road. The bad part was that I wasn’t the one driving the bus. I couldn’t slow it down when I saw someone extremely close. A curious individual observing my moves must have thought I was counting all pedestrians walking by the road.

“Jesus,” I said reflexively, “Grace.” I rushed to the front and stood next to the driver.

The driver glanced at my face. “We are four minutes away from the next stop, relax sir.”

“Please drop me here. Please,” I said, staring at him.

“Sir you know, rules are rules. And it’s you folks who report us,” the driver said.

“Stop the bus,” I screamed, surprising myself for acting that way in public.

At the corner of my eye I could see all the people staring at me. Some were even shaking their heads. Some looked frightened probably thinking I would take out a gun and shoot some of them to show the driver I was serious. But I didn’t care how anybody viewed me. They had no idea how it felt like to me at that point in time – none of them could handle being me.

The driver shook his head and stopped the bus in the middle of the road. I jumped off and ran back to Grace. I was sure it was her in her brown boots, long grey shirt, zebra coat, brown scarf wrapped around her neck.

However, when I got to the bus terminal where I saw her, there was no one – she was gone. All energies in my body left me. I sat down on the snow covering the pavement for there was no way I could stand. My stomach became hard as a rock. I cried literally.

Two young women in skinny jeans and big coats walked past me. They glanced at each other and giggled. Faintly, I heard one of them saying, “He’s losing the damn thing.” And they busted into a loud laughter.

I didn’t blame them, they were too young and naïve to understand the definition of life. They knew the fancy definition of life found in the dictionary, yet the real definition of life isn’t in any dictionary, but you get it when you find yourself sitting down on a public pavement – your brain threatening to shut down permanently.

My cell phone rang. I quickly jumped to my feet, and took it out. Mila was calling, unfortunately. I was disappointed, because I hoped it would be Grace, telling me she was at home already.  
I said, “Hello.”

Mila said, “I ain’t sure about this, but I saw some woman dressed exactly like my friend: brown boots, long grey skirt, zebra coat, even her brown scarf. ”

“Where?”

“Downtown Brooklyn. I was at the bank. When I saw her outside I dropped everything and ran out, but I couldn’t find her.”

“Thanks, Mila.”

I cut the call and called a cab.


	6. Chapter 6

ELIJAH  
Tuesday, December 27, 2016  
12:12 PM

Detective Howell tapped his office desk with his thumb, looking at me waiting for anything I could recollect in my head. But nothing came back to mind - I had forgotten everything. I couldn’t even recall why I left my house to see the detectives. I felt very tiny and dumb in front of Detective Howell and Reid. Detective Howell looked like he was feeling bad for me. As a man he understood that a sharp mind is a must have for any man to earn respect. Reid looked irritated. She hesitated many times rising from her chair.

“I feel bad I wasted your time. As I said it was two crucial things, but I can’t recall anything,” I said, staring at his desk, desperate. Detective Reid asked to attend something and she went out. Probably it was genuine urgency, but I concluded she was angry I wasted their time. But it wasn’t my intention. I also didn’t know I would forget everything. And above all I never asked to have amnesia. Whoever shot me did it and left me incomplete and unreliable. But I thanked God I was alive, my son wasn’t that lucky – the bullet went through his brain and he died on the spot and left a hole in my heart. Every time I thought of him I wished I was the one who died and he survived. Whoever killed him killed a part of me. After the incident I would cry almost every time I saw anything that brought my boy to mind. That’s why I stopped watching the Saturday afternoon games, either live or on TV. I would cry profusely when watching them. My mind would always see my boy sitting next to me, screaming at the players or the coach on the screen alongside me. Grace tried to close the gap by watching the games with me, but she was a square peg in a round hole. She didn’t even like the game. She just did it for me. She believed I needed to be with someone to gradually forget Leon, yet I needed someone who would scold at the players and the coach or the referee and run all over the living room with me when a goal had been scored. I just needed Leon with me in the living room.

I used the palm of my hand to wipe tears welling up in my eyes. And when I recalled I was with someone I quickly raised my eyes and found Detective Howell staring at me. I felt embarrassed. He didn’t ask me a thing - probably because he knew I had all reasons to fall apart. He knew everything about Leon. He did everything to find him alive, but found him dead. Now he was dealing with my love. I believed he even prayed to find her alive. Sorrow upon sorrow would be too much for my heart to handle. It would kill me.

The door flung open after a brief knock. “A minute, sir,” Detective Reid said, holding the door handle. He got the message that they had to talk somewhere private, not in my presence. He stood up.

“Mr. Turner, excuse us. We’ll be back,” Detective Howell said, heading to the door.

“No problem, sir,” I said, still embarrassed. Reid’s presence revived my embarrassment. Probably due to the way she was impatient with me. Or because she was a young woman. It is every man’s wish to look perfect to any young, beautiful woman.

I took out my cell phone thinking probably I wrote a reminder. There was nothing. I sat there feeling clumsy. “What could be worse than boarding a bus to report nothing to busy officers?”

I sat up and glanced at the door when I thought probably Detective Reid had called Detective Howell because Grace’s body had been found. I couldn’t understand why she asked to speak with him privately since they had discussed other cases in front of me without any problem. Or she called him to ask him to get rid of me because I was nothing but a lunatic who had come to waste their time.

I rose and went out of the police station. I walked up the busy and noisy 7th Ave, to the bus terminal. A thought that connected the amnesia and Grace struck my head and troubled me. It was an honest introspection but I hated it. I wondered if I wasn’t the one who killed Grace, dumped her body in the woods somewhere and forgot I did it. But I quickly aborted the horrible theory. I knew it was impossible for me to kill someone I loved so dearly. There wasn’t anything that could make me kill her – instead I could kill anyone who could harm her.

I placed ten dollars on the roadside vendors counter and took two hot dogs.

“Your change, sir,” the young Italian boy shouted.

I looked back, “Keep it, son.”

He said, “Thank you, sir.”

I avoided speaking a lot with him. He seemed fifteen, Leon’s lifespan. He died when he had just turned fifteen, so speaking with that boy could probably make me embarrass myself by crying in front of him. People who do such things end up on YouTube these days. The reputation damage I had suffered in front of Detective Howell and Reid was enough for the day – for a lifetime actually.

“Oh my God!” I stood still. Someone who was following me close bumped on me.

He said, “Sorry,” and walked past me. He seemed to be on a rush like most of the people.

I had recalled I left Detective Howell’s office without saying anything to him. He left me there expecting to find me when he came back. But I was also lazy to walk back down there. I continued to the bus terminal. After all they took me for a lunatic – there was no reputation to protect really.

I bit one of the hot dogs. It was fresh and hot as its name.

My cell phone rang. “My God!” Detective Howell was calling. I felt embarrassed to take it. It was a stupid fact - I forget our business wasn’t concluded and left. So what would talking about it solve, besides formalizing my folly?

The thought of killing Grace flashed again. I pushed it away.

The call ended. But he called again. “Jesus.”


	7. Chapter 7

ELIJAH  
Tuesday, December 27, 2016  
1:15 PM

The bus exited Interstate 278, taking Vanderbilt Ave. Then it stopped for two women in the first bus stop. I concluded they were nurses since they were in nurse’s uniform. One of them made me sit up and gaze at them until they blushed. She wore a Dolce and Gabbana perfume, Grace’s favorite. They paid and headed to the seat in front of mine.

I contemplated changing seats, not because of their gossip about the doctor who slept with interns, but due to the deodorant that made me see, feel and hear Grace in her red evening gown and orange high heels strolling with me to a dinner organized by the Bloggers Association in Los Angeles. We hit two birds with one stone, because the trip was both business and leisure. That’s what encouraged us to fly across the country really.

After the glamorous dinner I was surprised that Grace had organized a surprise birthday party with the hotel in the dining room. It was a surprise indeed since I had even forgotten it was my birthday. They sang for me and I blew the candles. We enjoyed the cakes with everyone in the room. It was a lovely night. I loved it. I loved the birthday. I loved my wife the more. Fresh love sprung up from the innermost depths of my heart. Surprises have got something about them. They make you feel vital and loved.

One of the gossiping nurses took out her Samsung tablet. She tapped its screen several times and Grace’s face showed up. Grace! My eyes almost dropped. I almost cried. I almost grabbed her tablet and yelled why she had my love’s photo. It felt odd to see her photo posted everywhere. You just feel like your private life has switched into a public property like the roads we drive on. When Grace posed in front of our house, she and I had no idea that that broad smile perfected by her dimples would be seen by millions all over the country and beyond. We both thought it was for our private collection, not a public image nor an item in an investigation file.

There were three faces of missing women on the New York Times app. Grace was in the middle. She tapped on Grace’s photo. Another page opened.

“You know her?” The nurse closer to the isle asked.

“Hmmmm, yes. In a way,” the nurse close to the window said.

My eyes bulged. It felt uncomfortable hearing them contemplating making my wife a new topic of their gossip. It’s always scary to hear strangers talk about your private life. What if they said Grace wasn’t missing, but ran away with a millionaire from LA? Wouldn’t I explode in the bus?

“How? Where?”

“About a year or two ago she had her husband admitted in our section.” She said. “Oh she was a sweet lady. At times she would bring us cakes when she had come to check him.”

I sighed and realized I had suspended breathing.

“Wow! Cakes, girl. You’re making me hungry right now. The husband. He survived or died?”

I almost said ‘I’m alive’ before she said, “He survived, but I don’t know how – the guy was shoot in the head.”

“I guess he lost his touch though.” 

They giggled, “The way you say it is funny. He didn’t lose his mind. He lost part of it.”  
My heart hammered my chest harder. How could qualified nurses who knew ethics discuss my life, my health so cheaply as if I was a stray dog who mattered to nobody? I mattered to Grace and my daughter. I mattered to my mom and relatives.

She laughed. “Girl, just say the man is crazy, period. There is nothing like being half mad. It’s either you are sane or insane.”

If I had no self control I would slap her and smash the tablet on the bus floor.

“He ain’t crazy, he developed some type of amnesia. I can’t remember which type. And he was lucky, you know. Initially Dr. Harris said he will never regain his mind. But somehow he did.”

I shook my head. I sweated a bit even though the weather was still chili.

“Amnesia. Some of those people are dangerous, girl. Now I’m beginning to think he killed this pretty lady right here. He killed his wife and forgot he did it.”

Anger, fear and confusion cut through me. The gossip brought back the thought I hated and aborted. But I was sure – I wouldn’t kill Grace for any reason.

They scrolled down the story and saw the plea by the police. At the bottom there was my photo. I was terrified see my face also displayed in public like that. 

“This is him.”

I stopped breathing.

“Girl I told you – this guy killed her. Look at his eyes.”

I shook my head and resumed breathing. I thought of changing seats, but at the same time I wanted to hear more about Grace and me.

“Stop it, Heidi. He looks cute to me.”

Both of them laughed whilst I shook my head again.

“I didn’t say he is ugly. I said he looks scary somehow. Look at the eyes.”

The one who sat closer to the window accidentally dropped her eyeglass case as the bus did a sharp turn. It rolled to my feet. I bent to take it for her. When I rose and handed it to her, our eyes met. Her eyes bulged as her forehead shrunk. She turned quickly and pressed her cheek against the window. She couldn’t even say ‘thank you’ to me.

The one closer to the isle said, “You must spread the story at work. You may never know who will see her and call the police. That’s if this weird husband didn’t kill her.”

The one closer to the window didn’t respond. Her friend tapped her on the thigh, “I’m boring you now?”

She didn’t respond but pressed herself on the window much more firmly, wishing it could swallow her.

The other one shook her head. “Just like that, you have switched to your stupid moods?” Then for whatever reason she turned and looked back. Our eyes met. Her eyes bulged and she quickly faced the front and froze.

I felt relief when I got my revenge at last. Even my heart slowed down. I had thought I would make them see me when I drop at Clinton Hill, but that was much better. The next few minutes felt like days to them. And the few miles like thousands of miles. And I was also determined to make it tough for them by not talking it over with them. They had to be punished by their own hearts and minds. Not that I believed in revenge - I hated gossip. I was glad they got a tough lesson.

When I rose and walked to the door, they must have jumped and celebrated behind me.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I touched my wooded gate. I saw a lady at the veranda in brown boots, grey long skirt, zebra coat and a brown scarf. I stopped breathing. “Grace.” I almost ran like a child seeing dad and mom come home.


	8. Chapter 8

ELIJAH  
Tuesday, December 27, 2016  
1:55 PM

I quivered a bit due to my racing heart as I sneaked on the snow. I wanted to surprise Grace – she was still knocking at the door probably thinking I was napping upstairs.

It came back to mind that I had gone to see Detective Howell about that I had seen Grace along the road in brown boots, grey long skirt, zebra coat and a brown scarf. Evidently I was right. My heart beat stronger as I drew closer. Just before climbing the steps to the veranda I screamed, “Surprise.”

She let out a brief scream and dropped her cell phone. I thought of Karen and Jane. They would think I was killing another woman when they hear the scream. She turned, “You almost killed me.”

But it was not Grace. It was Chloe, our previous house-keeper.

My stomach shrunk. And pain and confusion claimed their positions again. I ran my hands through my hair and gazed at Chloe. “It’s you, Chloe. I thought you were Grace.” The reality struck me, Grace was still missing. 

Chloe said, “I’m so sorry for your loss. I saw the story on TV and thought I needed to give you a hand, more especially on Kimberly – taking care of her and stuff.”

I climbed the steps and opened the door. “Ok, thanks, Chloe. That was kind of you,” I said, recalling how we badly fired Chloe. That was after Grace thought Chloe was seducing me with her short skirts and funky yoga pants. “Very kind of you, really. Come in.”

She put her handbag and bag on the couch and scanned the living room. “A lot has changed here. I’m sure you got an interior decorator.”

I glanced at her, “No, Grace did all the changes you see.” I went to the kitchen. She followed me. I found it hard welcoming Chloe back. I had to talk and be nice to her – in a way apologize for the way we fired her. But I was disappointed by meeting her. Not that I didn’t want her help, but I thought she was Grace. So every word I attempted to speak was suppressed by the acute disappointment. Such depressing moments should find you alone, so you just run to bed and grieve properly – without any disturbance. “Let’s have some coffee.”

“Oh no. Have a seat,” Chloe said as I opened the cabinet to take the chocolate chip cookies Grace baked about four days ago. “I will make the coffee. Just sit down.”

“You sure?” I said.

“What do you mean? Of course I’m your housekeeper. I’m back and at your service,” Chloe said already at the sink filling the kettle with water.

I stared at her unsure what to think. Yes, I needed and appreciated her offer, but what about Grace’s feelings. How could she feel if she could come back and find her not only back, but staying with me in the house again? She made Grace extremely insecure, yet Chloe seemed harmless to me. Yes, she was beautiful, but she never ever seduced me as Grace feared.

I said, “Tell me. Why did you buy all these clothes you are wearing?”

Chloe put down the cheese and knife. She turned, smiling, “You have forgotten, aren’t you? Grace gave them to me whilst I lived with you guys.”

“She did?”

“Oh yes. You were also there with Leon watching… Oh sorry.”

“It’s okay. In any case I must get used to living without my boy. I just hope I won’t need to get used to living without Grace.”

Chloe said, “Don’t say that. Grace will be back home. We are a team now. I will take care of the house and Kimberly whilst you help the police.”

“You are God sent, Chloe. Thanks for your kindness.”

She put the coffee, the cookies and the grilled cheese and tomato sandwich in front of me. Then she sat on the other side of the table.

“Thanks. Nice breakfast.”

Chloe smiled, looking at my face, “Breakfast? This is lunch.”

I looked at the wall watch. It was 2:10. “It’s breakfast for me. I didn’t have it.”

“That’s bad. But…”

“I didn’t even sleep one second.”

“Oh no! That’s bad. But I’m back now. You will eat and sleep well.” She took a bite of the sandwich and sipped the coffee. “Kimberly is in which grade now? First?”  
I nodded.

“She comes home at what time?”

“Around two thirty. She doesn’t come, we fetch her from school. But I don’t know now - Grace was driving our car when she went missing.”

“No problem. I will fetch her with a cab.”

“Ok, thanks.”

I raised my eyes and looked at her face. “Is it the amnesia thing or you changed your hair? Didn’t you have blond her when you lived with us.”

Chloe smiled. “It ain’t amnesia. This is a wig. Look.” She grabbed the top of her hair and pulled off the brown hair wig. Her blond hair crashed nicely on her shoulders.

The telephone rang in the dining room. I jumped and ran, praying it’s her. Fear cut through me as I thought of the mysterious calls, but I hoped it’s her. “Hello.”

“Mr. Turner. It’s Detective Howell.”

Chloe stood in front of me, gazing at my face also hopeful. But the fear multiplied in me as Detective Howell’s voice wasn’t promising any good news.”

“Yes Detective.”

“Please come to the station. We will talk when you get here.”

My stomach burned. “What is it? Did you find her?”

“Mr. Turner, I don’t want to discuss this over the phone. Please come here.”

I screamed, “Just tell me. You found her or not.”

Detective Howell sighed. “We found a body. We…”

My hand lost grip of the receiver and it fell off. I staggered. Chloe drew close and supported me with a firm reassuring hug. She made me sit on the floor. I cried hopelessly. My fear had caught up with me, finally. I couldn’t believe my ears. I couldn’t believe me. I couldn’t believe I had to live without Grace. Grace dead. Dead. Dead. Jesus.

Grace and I were like a glove and a hand. Without the glove the hand is bare and cold; and without the hand the glove is useless. I couldn’t understand how I was supposed to live without Grace.

Chloe sat next to me on the floor and hugged me. She made me cry on her small chest like a baby. She was crying too.


	9. Chapter 9

ELIJAH  
Tuesday, December 27, 2016  
2:40 PM

The morgue was hopelessly dim since the windows were small and closer to the roof. Even the air we inhaled was hopeless. It was not bad odor, but one that means nothing like the smell of clean human hair. I followed the mortuary attendant in a white lab-coat and the two detectives with feeble knees and a dead soul. I felt like the men, women, and children in the huge refrigerators on my left for I was dead too. A dead man walking. The ones in the refrigerators were even better if they believed in God - they were in a better place where dying and pain doesn’t exist. They had parked their bodies like one parks a car in a garage and left this world of sorrows.

I was still unable to believe I was there to confirm Grace’s body. That’s why I prayed a prayer of desperation deep in my heart.

On the wall on my right I saw a big sticker that says, I WISH I LISTENED.

“This way please,” the attendant said.

We followed him in to another room with a few beds most of them with black body bags. I prayed in my heart, asking God to do a miracle. If he did it for Lazarus, he could do it for my love.

At that moment it dawned in my troubled mind that better is the stifling suspense that comes with a missing person ordeal than the closure that comes with finality of death. The stifling suspense does give one a room to hope. But death is final.

“Yes, this is the one. Bed 9,” the attendant said, looking at Detective Howell. “Should I uncover her?”

All of them turned towards me at the tail of the bed. I nodded, because I couldn’t talk – tears ran freely on my cheeks.

Slowly he unzipped the body bag. I cried the more when I saw the brown hair. I started feeling like I would collapse - the floor was moving. But as soon as I saw the entire head my strength came back to me. That young lady wasn’t Grace. She looked like her, but it wasn’t her. Besides the looks, Grace never used lipstick nor cutex on her fingernails.

I sighed. “My God.”

I drew closer to her head. Indeed it was not her. They all looked at me. “Yes, this is not my wife.”


	10. Chapter 10

ELIJAH  
Tuesday, December 27, 2016  
4:05 PM

I switched on the TV and sat on the couch. I wanted to see if they had something to say about Grace. But there was nothing yet - just a music program. It crossed my mind that being called to the morgue for the wrong body was really tough – it almost killed me, but it did have a good thing about it. It forced me to think in the right direction. It made me forget that the cops were doing enough to find Grace. Those people were looking for either Grace or her body. Clearly, I had to rise as one who would only look for her, not her body. To them Grace was just data, a statistic. If found dead, they would stop all MISSING GRACE alerts and record that one Caucasian woman was found dead, then it would be over. But for me a dark winding road could be starting. There is nothing as painful as losing a lovely wife.

In my heart I thanked God for sending Chloe to help me. I wouldn’t be able to cope with what I had in front of me and taking care of Kimberly. At least Chloe was back to be in full control of her. And she was in good hands, because Chloe loved children. And Kimberly loved ‘Aunt Chloe.’ 

When she saw her next to the cab she forgot her friends and almost flew in the air.

Kimberly screamed sharply outside. I hastened to the window. There was nothing bad. Chloe and Kimberly were chasing each other on the snow. I learned with awe that they had rebuilt the snowman I crushed in the morning. I wondered what Karen and Jane would think. Probably they would assume I was the one who told Chloe and Kimberly to rebuild it as a way of saying sorry.

“Oh yes.” I recalled that the other thing I wanted to tell Detective Howell was that a part of me suspected Karen. But with the new conviction and direction, I thought it wise to forget about telling them anything and investigate on my own. I only had to get a notebook for writing important stuff I shouldn’t forget. Even telling Chloe all my plans could also help. I believed she could try her best to do the job well like Grace. Grace excelled such that I nicknamed her ‘my second brain.’ And she couldn’t get tired of me, even when I called her asking stupid things like ‘Who is the person I wanted to see in town?’ or ‘What’s the name of our favorite dish,’ like when ordering food for us. A classic case was when I boarded a bus and left our car at Wal-Mart simply because I had forgotten I had driven to Wal-Mart. In fact, I had forgotten that we even had a car.

But it was hard for me to stomach that suspect number one was indeed Karen. The same Karen who acted as our friend. “People!”

The reality that Karen was smart enough to play the card of labeling me as the suspect in front of Jane and also calling the police surprised me. She acted smarter than I would expect. As a result, I wouldn’t even come anywhere near her house; she could call the police or black mail me.

The telephone rang. I ran hoping once again. I held my breath. “Hello.”

“Still nothing promising, Elijah?”

I released my breath, “Nothing yet, Mom. The cops only called me for a body, but it wasn’t her.”

“That was great. We don’t want any body; we want Grace safe and sound.” She cleared her throat. 

“You know I was thinking about Kimberly. Why don’t you bring her to stay with me for a while?”

“Kimberly. God did a miracle, Mom. Chloe saw the story on TV and came back to help me.”

“How can you say that? God or the devil. No God brought that girl. How can you bring back somebody who almost destroyed your marriage? If Grace could show up now, she could go and leave you with that good for nothing girl.”

“I will think about it. But for now she will stay.”

“What is there to think about, Elijah? I can’t believe you want my granddaughter to…” Then I heard a crashing sound. She smashed the receiver on the telephone.

I began being confused about Chloe and all the women who didn’t like her. First, it was Mila. She also didn’t want to hear anything about her. She even threatened not to come here for supporting me. Elizabeth, Grace’s mom, it was the same thing. Now it was mom. They all called her a whore who wasn’t fit to take care of six year old. But I knew Chloe more than they – she wasn’t a whore at all. Probably Karen, not Chloe. Yes, she didn’t like dressing modestly, but she wasn’t a whore.


	11. Chapter 11

ELIJAH  
Tuesday, December 27, 2016  
7:02 PM

Hiding the truth about Grace’s disappearance from Kimberly seemed to be working until I asked her to bless the supper Chloe had prepared. She jumped off her chair and closed her eyes with her small hands. “Lord Jesus, please bring Mom back. Help her run away and leave the monsters holding her. Amen.”

“Amen.” I gazed at Chloe across the table. But she was also staring at me, asking the same question I had. Just like her, I thought she was the one who told Kimberly the whole truth even though we had agreed that we will conceal the whole matter from the child. I suspected Karen did it.

“Let’s eat,” Chloe said as she rose and dished Kimberly’s food first.

I took a white plate and loaded rice, beef stew, potato and lettuce salad. I swallowed lots of saliva as I loaded the fried chicken. It was golden brown and crisp. Its aroma brought me back to the dining room, because Kimberly’s prayer had thrown me out. I kept on thinking about who really told the child such disturbing news about her mom when Chloe and I hid the whole thing from her. My mind kept on saying Karen, Karen. Evidently the problem was really troubling the child. I asked her to pray for food, she prayed for her mom’s return only. I laughed - laughter of unbelief. 

Simultaneously, Chloe and Kimberly stared at me.

Kimberly said, “What is funny, Dad?”

“I’m laughing at you,” I said and started eating. The food was superb, but I couldn’t enjoy it. I had to push myself to eat for my appetite was not existent.

Kimberly peeped at herself. “What’s funny on me?”

“You are eating the meat only.”

Chloe said, “Start with the rice and salads, Kimberly.”

She looked at her and laughed. “What if I eat the rice and someone comes and steal my meat.”

Chloe and I laughed. “Where will that person come from?” I asked, thinking how much of a burden a child could be. The mood ought to be somber, but we had to create a simple one for her. And that was demanding for me. I wished I was in my bed, crying.  
Kimberly said, “Even the people who stole mom can come.”

Chloe and I quickly looked down at our dishes.

“When are they going to bring Mommy back, Dad?” Kimberly asked. “Why did they take her from us?”

Chloe raised her eyes to my face. I coughed even though there was no need.

I said, “What did you do at school today, sweetheart?”

“At school?” Kimberly said.

“Yes, at school,” I said.

“We were singing the song which says Swish Swish,” Kimberly said.

Chloe looked at Kimberly, “Don’t stop eating. Eat and talk, baby.”

Kimberly bit a piece of the chicken. Quickly she glanced at us as she recalled she wasn’t supposed to eat the meat first. She spun her eyes like a cartoon, not knowing what to say since we caught her. Chloe and I laughed.

“Swish Swish, Dad. You don’t know that song. You didn’t sing it when you were young?” Kimberly said.

“Remind me, I have forgotten it,” I said.

Even though she wasn’t joyous like when her mom was around, but she jumped off her chair and sang the song:

The wheels on the bus go round and round.  
round and round.  
round and round.  
The wheels on the bus go round and round,  
all through the town!

The people on the bus go up and down.  
up and down.  
up and down.  
The people on the bus go up and down,  
all through the town!

Chloe joined her. I wished, but I couldn’t pretend that much.

The horn on the bus goes beep, beep, beep.  
beep, beep beep.  
beep, beep, beep.  
The horn on the bus goes beep, beep, beep.  
all through the town!

The wipers on the bus go swish, swish, swish.  
swish, swish, swish.  
swish, swish, swish.  
The wipers on the bus go swish, swish, swish,  
all through the town!

The signals on the bus go blink, blink, blink.  
blink, blink, blink.  
blink, blink, blink.  
The signals on the bus go blink, blink, blink,  
all through the town!

The motor on the bus goes zoom, zoom, zoom.  
zoom, zoom, zoom.  
zoom, zoom, zoom.  
The motor on the bus goes zoom, zoom, zoom,  
all through the town!

The babies on the bus go waa, waa, waa.  
waa, waa, waa.  
waa, waa, waa.  
The babies on the bus go waa, waa, waa,  
all through the town!

The parents on the bus go shh, shh, shh.  
shh, shh, shh.  
shh, shh, shh.  
The parents on the bus go shh, shh, shh,  
all through the town!

The mommy on the bus says, I love you.  
I love you, I love you  
The daddy on the bus says, I love you, too.  
All through the town.

I wiped tears from my eyes and gave her a little round of applause. That’s the best I could do. Kimberly sat down and proceeded with eating. I almost cried again when a thought hit me that the child was trying to act strong like an adult. But also anger kindled within me. I was angry at the one who stole Grace from us. I was angry at Karen. I couldn’t wait for dawn. I longed to start haunting her like a crazy ghost.


	12. Chapter 12

FOUR YEARS EARLIER  
GRACE  
Monday, July 23, 2012  
7:25 AM

The 7:25 bus slowed down, preparing to stop at the bus stop. I walked faster even though I felt discontented. The sluggishness of my life had started irritating me. My patience was fast running out. I vividly felt like a misfit in my own neighborhood. They drove - I walked. They ordered - I cooked. They swiped - I prayed. They were all filthy rich, but I had to stretch myself to rise just above the so called poverty line. A huge log was ever on my weary shoulders. Invisible of course, but heavy. Potholes were always on my path. Invisible too, but wide and deep.

The bus sealed its doors and started moving.

“Oh my God!” I picked up my pace in the brutal Clinton Hill sun, hoping the driver would notice me, but he didn’t. I felt tiny and stupid for the street was teeming with people to and from work. Those in the bus and passing cars ogled at me, probably thinking I was insane. I didn’t blame them though. Who runs in high heels carrying a crying baby?

The bus was partially back on the road, leaving the bus stop. Then it accelerated.

My heart sank, but I didn’t give up. I accelerated too. The number of eyes on me had increased, but I ignored them, more especially the laughing ones.

The bus was already some yards away. It was already 7:26, yet about ninety percent of commuters on the bus were the time conscious working class and students. They always gave pressure to the driver. He had to be on time or they could make a call that could make him homeless and starving in a few days.

Kimberly was even jumping in the stomach-to-stomach baby carrier, like something had scared or irritated her. But I didn’t have a second or hands to calm her. My left hand was taking care of the diaper bag and my handbag was in my right hand. I only hoped she was not sick. If she could throw up on my chest, my white blouse could be a mess, even my black pencil skirt.  
The bus was a bit far, but I continued running, banking on two things: the mirror and compassion. I hoped their combination would do me justice. I didn’t care anymore about those who thought I was crazy.

Finally, compassion worked - not the mirror. It was the passengers and pedestrians who shouted, whistled and motioned the driver to stop. One old lady, walking her dogs, screamed, “She is carrying a baby for Christ’s sake.”

Risking a traffic ticket, the bus forced a roadside parking on the white line: left side on the road and the right on the concrete trench next to the pavement. But he kept revving the engine.  
Wheezing and dripping wet, and irritated by the stickiness of my mouth, I pushed for the last. Then I hopped in already feeling the weight of my debt. I owed the commuters, even the driver, a big ‘thank you,’ yet I feared addressing masses of strangers. Not that I would prepare a speech to render, but I had to face them and say ‘thank you’ before sitting down. And the bus was full.

Panting like a dog on a hot summer day, I said to the driver, “Thanks a lot.” Then I held both bags with one hand and dipped my card, making my payment. The bags almost fell off. My hands were weary like the rest of my body.

“You’re welcome, Ma’am,” the driver said, overtaking a school bus. “What happened today?”  
I glanced at him, loving his question. It soothed like a compliment. At least he knew something must have happened for me to be late. He knew I wasn’t a crazy, disorganized woman. “Kids happened. When you have two kids and a job, life is…I don’t know.”

My lungs started slowing down. I jerked away my hair and glanced at the commuters at the corner of my eye. Oh my God! They were gazing at me, hungry for the appreciation. Even an apology.

“Hell,” he said.

Kimberly was still wailing, drawing me more attention, and irritating some people.

“Not exactly, but it’s really crazy,” I said whilst drying my face with a Kleenex.

Finally, I took the dreaded turn to take a seat. They were still staring at me, demanding. And silent.

I was shivering. I only hoped it wasn’t noticeable.

Balancing with the window frame, I made a broad shy smile. “Thank you very much. Thanks.”

Not a soul said a thing. I felt clumsy and embarrassed. I wished I could vanish. I turned towards the empty seat on my right.

“You are welcome, dear,” a granny at the front seat said, smiling. A few others nodded. The satisfaction in the bus was obvious - some even started chatting, yet before the appreciation there was uncomfortable silence. Only the engine revved and rumbled.

Unfortunately, the bus was full. The only free seats were the ones for the handicapped. I had to sit facing the aisle and some eyes.

I sat behind the driver and put the diaper bag and the handbag on my left. Unsure of the health implications of the concoction created by everybody’s perfume, I opened the window above my head. Unlike the stuffy, sweaty buses of the afternoon, it had a lovely, refreshing atmosphere, but it was too saturated for Kimberly’s little lungs.

“Shhh..shhh. Quiet, girl. We got the bus. It’s okay now, shhh…shhh...shhh,” I whispered to Kimberly whilst bumping her on my lap. She was the only pair of eyes I could look at with confidence; everybody else viewed me as an idiot who wanted to make them late for work or school. But I had no evil intention to spoil anybody’s morning. It was Elijah who had to take the blame for the whole thing. If we lived with our equals economically, I wouldn’t make an idiot of myself. The bus would come as close as possible to my house, and I would not need to walk stretches and stretches to the nearest bus stop. Clinton Hill was for the rich, they wouldn’t build a bus stop solely for me.

I firmly pressed my back against the seat, realizing the nice cooling effect of the sweat on my back. It felt like a cold shower.

Kimberly stopped crying and smiled, staring at my eyes. I kissed her until she giggled.  
Some man, a little older than me, in his late forties, grinned at me when our eyes met. I grinned back just for being nice, but I didn’t trust anybody in that bus. Yes, they had helped me, but I wouldn’t be completely flattered by that. Some of the regulars were awful people. They reported me to Child Protection Services, claiming I was abusing a baby by taking her to work every day.  
Like they cared…No one cared for Kim like me. If they truly cared, why didn’t they approach me and ask if I took the baby to work everyday or I dropped her in a day care center before rushing to work. It’s always annoying when somebody insults your love – your motherliness. They didn’t even know how it’s like to be a mom - to create this bond inside your womb…to become this tiny person’s world for nine plus months. He breathes a share of the oxygen you inhale. You become his clothes, for he is naked inside you. You become his dining-room for he eats what to have eaten. You become his playground for he plays and kicks inside you. You become his bedroom for he sleeps and prays inside you. Most lovely, you become his bathroom where he pees and poops.

The womb is such a powerful place. There is no place like it in all of the earth. All bonds that start inside the womb never end. They are not even divorceable. Midwives only cut the umbilical code they see – they fail to cut the invisible one. The latter connects a mother to her baby forever. Even death fails to cut this powerful code. That’s why on the deathbed, a mother cries and prays for her children - asking God to keep them under the power of his name and the blood of his Son.

I smiled, staring at Kimberly’s tiny face, feeling great love for my innocent little thing.

The bus joined the Interstate 278 Highway, heading downtown Brooklyn. Two cheeky, ghetto-ish college girls at the back complained about being late for a test.

The one closest to the window blew a gum and said, “Only if people don’t chase buses when they are late.” 

“Duh!” the other one screamed before they broke into loud, irritating laughter.

Almost everybody stared at me, expecting anything, but I smiled. I knew people treat a poor person the exact way she deserves. But of course I suppressed a tsunami inside me. It’s only in my head where I smashed their heads against the window until it broke and they bled.

My hands wrapped around Kimberly were even quaking a bit, and my temperature had risen again. I told myself I shouldn’t pay attention to those lowlifes; after all I had a husband who truly loved me. I also had two lovely angels who loved me. Both Kimberly and Leon were the flesh of my flesh. They were a piece of me. They were me. When I had to be away from them for a few days I would die somehow. My life would come back to me when I see their cute faces again.

The driver must have heard the ghetto girls - he was constantly on the fast lane.


	13. Chapter 13

FOUR YEARS EARLIER  
GRACE  
Monday, July 23, 2012  
10:57 AM

I laid my head on the warm desk and scribbled junk on the misty glass using my finger. Then I drew a little boy and a baby on the desk using the wet tip of my finger. Underneath the picture I wrote LEON, KIM. I hoped Mila would not pop into my office. She could be disappointed I had not taken even a sip of the apple juice she brought me. I couldn’t even rise to close the blinds letting the sun flood my face. I was still a mess inside. I felt tiny and worthless. Some of the ladies were very junior to me but they led decent lives. That morning Dana came with a new iPhone – her husband gave her for her birthday. Not that I was jealous but I also wanted my man to do such for me.

I felt awful I couldn’t give my kids my own version of the American Dream. Elijah kept promising us a better tomorrow and I was tired of it. I wanted him to give us the better tomorrow today. I wished I could drive to work like the other ladies. I wished I could wear expensive clothes and spoil my kids. Elijah had to forget about his little blogging company and get a real job – after all he did have an IT degree. Who could support his family and spoil his wife with a blog anyway?  
But I was also to blame. I was stupid to believe in his dream. A blog! I wasn’t supposed to believe in it nor take a huge loan for his company. I ought to tell him to come back to his senses and be realistic. He had been working on his small company for ten years but no fruits – it never took off even once. He had to get a real job. I was tired of envying my girlfriends for all the great stuff they got from their husbands or boyfriends. 

On Mondays they always came with stories on how their outings were or what labels they bought for them. But I always had to pretend I was busy and had no time to postmortem the weekend with the girls. Elijah had to wake up and be a man. I also wanted the other ladies to envy me - my looks and everything. I also wanted the best for my kids. Leon had even started his teen years, but I hadn’t been able to give him the dream life I had hoped for my kids. Elijah had to wake up really. I was tired.

I looked at stickman version of Leon on my desk and smiled. I had recalled one day, a decade ago, when Leon mimicked shooting me with his toy camera. A few minutes later he came running with an ugly, fat woman he had drawn and said, “Mom. Here is your photo. It is out now.” I took it, laughed and said, “Wow! Thank you, my baby. It’s beautiful. Your camera takes beautiful photos.” But he ran away when I bent to kiss him on the cheek. I smiled again.

The door flung open after two quick knocks.

I sat upright hastily whilst grabbing the glass. I also erased Tom and Kimberly with my left hand.  
Mila’s round face shrunk. She clutched her long black hair with her hands – her mouth wide open. “Put it down. I wasted my time, obviously.”

She shut the door behind her and her high heels clicked, clacked as she aggressively carried her cute figure towards my desk. She threw a yellow file on my desk and dropped herself on the chair opposite mine. She closed the laptop in front of me and stared at my eyes.

I said, “No friend, you didn’t waste your time. I’m thirsty, it’s just that… I…I…” I smiled.

“Don’t even say it,” Mila said, raising her right hand. “Don’t even mention El. Don’t even mention whatever fight you had last night. I told you. I told you, you were making a big mistake by marrying such a broke guy. What’s love with no cash, baby.”

I said, “I told you yesterday. I don’t regret being with him. That man truly loves me. That man is dead honest. I know he will never cheat or lie to. He truly fears God. I love him too. I just wish he could earn more and spoil me.”

Mila sat at the edge of her seat. “Woman up, girl. Broke love! Pleeeeease. Don’t fool yourself, baby girl. I told you then, I will tell you now. Broke love never works.”

“So what should I do?”

“Divorce him.”

“Jesus! Are you crazy,” I screamed unintentionally.

“Yes, divorce him, get a real man. Simple.”

“I can’t believe you. I know you are crazy, but I never thought you are that crazy, my friend.”

“Ok, tell me since you are not crazy. What good is your man to you if you are the most miserable woman in this branch? Everyday I have to cheer you up. Just last week you almost cried when I showed you this gem,” Mila said, lifting her necklace.

My eyes bulged. “It’s not like I was…”

Mila shut my mouth with her right hand. “You don’t have to justify yourself, friend. I know you. I know you are the only genuine Christian I know. I know you weren’t jealous. You were truly happy for me, but you just wished it could also rain for you.”

I sighed and laughed. “You think you know me. Don’t you?”

“I know you. Why are you laughing? I know you. I also know your broke man. You are a great woman, you only lack one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“A real man.”

“Ok. Since you got a real man, are you happy?”

“Oh yes I’m, baby.”

“If you are happy, why did you come to my office crying…last month?”

“It’s not like I said Max is perfect, he has his minor problems here and there. But he takes care of me. Baby, I don’t even use my salary for anything important, it’s just for snacks, pizza. Have you ever heard of a secretary who drives a BM?” I stared at her eyes. “I thought so.”

I said, “You never cease to amaze me, friend. You call sleeping around with girls a minor thing. You know, I can’t and I can’t take that. I’m glad El will never do it.”

Mila smiled. “You know what’s the other thing he will never do. He will never buy a car for you.”

I laughed. “Today you are so mean.”

The telephone rang. 

Mila jumped to her feet. “Don’t take it. Don’t. Please.”

I gazed at her face.

She pushed the yellow file towards me. “I think it’s Mr. Wright. Please go through the file, friend. He said get back to him before lunch. It’s like this company wants the software finished in a month.”

“That’s not possible.”

“No. I mean the prototype.”

The telephone rang again. Mila dashed out of my office. I hesitated taking it but feared what I could say if it was indeed the CEO. I took a gulp of the apple juice and sighed.


End file.
